


the safehouse

by poalimal



Series: WIP Amnesty [7]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abduction, Ableism, Gen, M/M, old fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-23
Updated: 2018-07-23
Packaged: 2019-06-15 00:23:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15400872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poalimal/pseuds/poalimal
Summary: The following week Potter lost his mind.





	the safehouse

 

If Draco had known Potter and Weasley would be in the Atrium, he wouldn't have gone out to buy lunch. It was chance alone that he ran into them - he had not seen any living faces in two weeks. The second he saw them, he became painfully aware of his too-short cuffs, the smudgery and dust of his second-hand robes, the stiffness and starchness of his 10 sickle shirt. Draco had ducked his head sharply in response, warm all along the back of his neck, and hoped against hope that he would not be noticed.

No such luck.

'Malfoy,' Potter said, striking and solid in his heavy red robes. Weasley, for his part, was dressed as a civilian, and sported with ease that strange mix of Muggle and wizarding fashion that identified him as newly well-off - he gave Draco a lazy sneer, barely looking him at him directly. Draco nodded at them both so hard he felt as though his head might fall off.

When he returned to his office he found his tuna salad sandwich had frozen solid all the way through.

 

* * *

 

The following week Potter lost his mind.

It was not anything Draco would have bothered believing, had he not witnessed it directly. The only news he ever caught was dated, fourth-hand, and quite generally useless - so he of course heard nothing of Potter's very public breakdown Thursday morning. In fact he barely heard about the rain due that evening. His mother's second wand was, as usual, only slightly more helpful than nothing, and he was soaked within moments of exiting the Ministry. Trust him to choose the single worst day to walk home.

He was debating whether he should duck into Orwell's - last time he'd been asked to leave - or if he should try to make a run for it - the left heel of his shoe might not survive the journey - when Harry Potter came out of nowhere and swung him up and around in his arms like it was nothing.

'You're alive,' said Potter. 'Thank God, you're alive.'

'What,' Draco said, dizzily, 'what! Potter! Let me down!' Potter set him down at once, pinch-mouthed, but did not let him go. Draco glanced down both sides of the street, utterly gobsmacked, where he could see, oh, Rowena's _claws_ , people had stopped walking simply to stare. And just there, a little further down the street: Weasley and Granger, in hasty pursuit, loudly calling Potter's name.

Oh, were they all in on this, then? Draco had to admit, it didn't seem like any of their style. All of this effort to, what, embarrass him? But why would any of them bother?

Potter took Draco's wrist and pulled him so smoothly and so abruptly into a different somewhere that Draco did not realise that they had Disapparated until his stomach caught up with him.

'What on _earth_ ,' Draco said, weakly, wiping his mouth. 'Where is this?'

'Somewhere safe.' Potter Vanished his vomit, stalking across the floor like some sort of feral Crup. 'Go to sleep.'

'Go to--' was he mad? 'I will not go to sleep!'

Potter beamed madly at him, and shrugged. 'Suit yourself.' And then he Disapparated again, leaving Draco wandless in the dark.

 

* * *

 

The room had a switch, and the switch controlled the light. The room also had:

*a bed  
*a toilet and sink and soap behind a door  
*a dusty, stale kind of smell

A small cold cupboard featured a crisp head of lettuce, dried tomatoes, sliced cheese and salted meat, and a Neverending Pitcher filled with cool and clear water. No windows; abandoned paintings all. Draco ate his sandwich while staring at the empty frame of _Ptolemy Gazes On Thuban_ , and he thought and he thought.

Surely there must be a way out of here, he fell asleep thinking; surely this is all some strange sort of dream.

 

* * *

 

It was not a dream.

The next morning the cupboard held goosenburr jam and thick, buttery braided bread. He had not, Draco reflected, eaten so well in months. It took him about a half-hour to shake off the fog that descended over him at that.

Potter appeared in the middle of the floor in the meantime, staring down at Draco while he scrambled awkwardly to his feet. His right foot was asleep, so his lunge at Potter became really more of a slip-and-fall halfway through. Potter caught him handily and set him steady on his feet.

'Potter,' said Draco, too dazed to panic, 'give me a watch, would you? I need to know the time.'

'Oh, of course,' said Potter, undoing his own watch and clasping it 'round Draco's wrist, still-warm. As if it were nothing. 'It should only be three more days, by the way. Sorry. I should've said.'

'Three more--What is three more days?' Draco asked, trying not to stare down at the watch. It was 9:13 in the morning. If he wasn't certain that nobody marked his coming or going he would certainly have been fired by now.

'If I told you, it would rather defeat the point of bringing you,' said Potter, eyeing him closely. 'D'you need anything else, then? Toothbrush? ...Deodorant?'

Was that some sort of pointed comment? Draco drew himself up as tall as he could go. His back made all sorts of protests at this, of course: his office chair encouraged a slump.

'I need a wand,' he said stiffly. Potter's smile did not so much as flag. 'Failing that, I need to know _what_ is going on. What about my mother? If I'm in danger, she might be, too. Is she safe?'

'Oh, don't worry, Malfoy,' said his abductor, 'your mother is taken care of.'

'Taken care of like how you've taken care of me?' Draco snapped. 'I should certainly hope not!' Potter sighed, and patted him on the back. Tried to, anyway - Draco was more or less successful in pushing him away. 'Would you--! Why do you keep--' he found his breath coming in quicker and tighter, and he wrenched his way back against the wall. 'What are you _doing_ , Potter?'

Potter blinked at him, as if he were staring down at him from a great height. 'I should've thought that would be obvious.'

'What, _assaulting and kidnapping me_?!' Draco's voice felt very high. 'Of course, what wouldn't be obvious about that!' And then, with the wall hard behind him and nowhere else to go, he buried his head in his hands.

For some moments the only sound was Draco's harsh, strained gasps. Then Potter let out a long sigh. 'I'm sorry, Malfoy,' he said. 'I know this must all be very frightening. But all I want is to keep you safe. Can you trust me on that?'

'Trust you?' Draco tried to laugh. 'Potter, I hardly even know you.'

Potter tilted his head. 'Don't you?'

 


End file.
